


As We Go Along

by TeamFreeWill12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU with no supernatural elements, Familial Awkwardness, M/M, Previous Trauma to both boys, Searching for Peace, Tags will be updated as the story is written, Unsure if rating will change, slow going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFreeWill12/pseuds/TeamFreeWill12
Summary: When you're traumatized, it's difficult to get back to your "Normal Life." And sometimes it's impossible to get back where you started. So you start over. Blank slate. New home, new life. New friends who don't know anything about your past. New friends who accept you when they do.





	1. Prologue Part One: In the Beginning--Dean

**Author's Note:**

> So hey. I'm trying this again. Third time is supposedly the charm, right?
> 
> Ok. Here's the deal. A co-author and I started writing this story together, but then the holidays happened. And life happened. And kept happening. Then, I believe, my co-writer became disenchanted with the show and the ship and has moved on to a new ship, new fandom. She eventually deleted the fic from AO3 altogether; thank Jibbers Crabst that I had a full copy of it somewhere so that I could continue this story, because I'm really wondering what happens. So I'm going to do my very best to get this story posted and completed. 
> 
> There is actually more story there than I had previously thought, so there's plenty to read. I just have to EDIT the stuff. Editing seems easier than full on writing from scratch right now. Depression is just the biggest bitch. And so is work. 
> 
> I really appreciate those of you who have stuck with this story from the beginning. ((I see you, Coplins!)) If you have any questions, or just want to chat, etc, I'm teamfreewill12 on tumblr.

_Crash! Clatter-clatter-clatter! Shatter!_

 

“That better not have been my new crock pot, Sammy! I paid out the nose for it!”

“...Sorry?”

“Dammit, Sammy!” Dean Winchester took his phone out of his pocket. “You’re buying me a new one. Right now. I’m ordering it _right now_ .” He pulled up the Williams-Sonoma site, quickly signing in and finding the correct item before heading into the kitchen to find his ginormo baby brother delicately picking through the mess that _had_ been his brand new crock pot.

He nearly wept. Three hundred of his hard earned dollars had gone towards the thing. He didn’t even feel bad as he handed his brother the phone.

“Put in your credit card number, Clumsy.” His voice brooked no argument.

Sam sighed and took the phone, keying in his information. “Who even uses ceramic anymore, anyway? What’s wrong with stainless steel?”

Dean looked up from the box he was unpacking. “Dude. It’s in the name. Crock. Pot. Crockery.”

Sam shook his head and handed the phone back. “Whatever, dude. It’s just a pot. By the way, is anyone else coming to help today?”

Dean bit his tongue before he unleashed a tirade about Sam’s _La-de-da_ attitude about the kitchen appliance that would be cooking his favorite meal for his birthday and checked the time on his phone.  “Yeah, Charlie’s coming over to set up all the electronics, but not until later. Why? You worried you’re the only brute force to help with all the furniture?”

“Kinda.”

“Well, worry no more. You _are_ IT.” He clapped his brother on the back and grinned maniacally.

“Ow, dammit,” Sam swore. His brother always knew where to hit him so it hurt the worst. “What the hell, man, where is everyone else?”

“Guess.”

“Benny and the fam are out of town--”

“Accidentally on purpose.”

“Jo’s at the Roadhouse--”

“She begged Ash to let her take his shift.”

“What about Garth?”

“Garth is Garth, so Bobby is keeping is keeping him occupied. Ash is helping Bobby, and Bobby--”

“Bobby doesn’t help people move,” Sam finished for him.

“Right. So it’s just you and me, bro. But if we can at least get the couch inside and my bedroom set up we can call it good and have a couple of beers on my awesome back deck.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and headed out to the garage, whistling Rush’s “Freewill.”

Knowing he wouldn’t leave his brother in the lurch, Sam pulled out his phone to call his wife.

“Jess? Yeah, I’m gonna be later than I thought…”

  
  
                              ●●●  


 

“Thanks for helping me out, Sammy. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, man. Just returning the favor.”

An hour and a half later, the guys were sitting out back, enjoying a couple of cold ones on Dean’s “awesome back deck.” After they’d hauled in all the furniture and electronics, pretty much emptying the moving truck, Dean called for a break. The sofa had been dropped in the right place, the king-sized mattress had been dragged upstairs and his his entertainment electronics were in a pile in the middle of his living room floor, waiting for Charlie.

Meanwhile, there was a cool enough breeze and a nice view of the giant backyard to enjoy.

Sam took a sip of his beer. “You’re going to need one hell of a mower for this patch of grass, bro.”

“Yup,” Dean replied. He was pretty excited about that. It had been a while since he’d had a lawn to mow.

Actually, he was pretty excited about a lot of things. It would be nice to have a place where his friends and family could gather and be as loud as they wanted. Not that they were loud partiers anymore or anything, but if Jo “accidentally” got sprayed with the hose and shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, there were assurances that the cops wouldn’t be called by some nosy neighbor, since the nearest neighbor was at least a football field’s length away in any direction.

Dean was ruminating on this fact, thinking about how pleased he was about the quiet, when Sam brought it up in his Negative Nancy way.

“It’s kinda quiet out here.”

“Yup.”

“It’s kinda far out from town.”

“Yup.”

Pause.

“Aren’t you going to be lonely out here all by yourself in the quiet, far side of the sticks?”  
“Nope.” That _p_ got popped extra hard. Dean took a sip of beer and smiled at the still-green grass in front of him.

“Seriously? You’re not exactly an introvert, Dean.”

Dean sat his beer down and turned his attention to his brother. “I can get plenty of socializing done in town, bro. I just wanted a place where I can be as quiet or as loud as I want and no one will give a shit. Privacy doesn’t necessarily equal introvert, Sam.”

“But--”

Dean stood up, interrupting him. “Sam. Hear my words: I’m. Going. To. Be. Fine. Would you please stop worrying about me and just be happy about my awesome new place?” He spread his arms wide. “Huh?”

Sam sighed. He would never stop worrying about his brother. But Dean didn’t need to know that.

“Fine. I’m incredibly happy about you living in the middle of nowhere. Are you happy now?”

Dean picked up his empty beer bottle and headed towards the door. “Yes. If you’re done with the chick-flick moment, what do you want for dinner, pizza or Chinese?”

  
“Does Pizza Hut even service Deliverance country?” he called after his brother.

“Ha ha,” came the faint response.

Sam smirked to himself, a little proud of that one.

 

                             ●●●

 

“You know, Dean. It’s awful far out here.”

 _Jesus Christ._ “Did Sam put you up to this? Yes, Charlie. It’s fine, I’m fine. Privacy sounds amazing, now will you and your sister back off?”

Charlie glared at him while her hands hovered over the keyboard. “I was about to say, before you went on that tirade, that it’s far enough out here to have Naked Time all the time. You’re gonna need a decent porn hookup.”

“Oh. Ok. Sorry. Wait. No. Unnecessary.”

“Already on it. Sorry, not sorry.” With a few clicks on the keys, Dean had the full adult package, so to speak. “And you’re welcome.”

“Uh...Thanks, I guess.” It wasn’t weird that his little sister just hooked him up with--ahem--all access porn, right?

Charlie turned away from the computer to level a caring stare at Dean. “Ok, but for serious. Sam didn’t have to put me up to anything. You know we’re worried about you being all the way out here by yourself. _But,_ ” she stressed when he started to speak, “I totally understand the need for silence and solitude. Trust me. And I know you well enough to know that your silence doesn’t necessarily mean you’re quietly angsting alone.” She turns and starts piling her stuff together.

 _“However,_ since I do know you as well as I do, I know you have a hard time asking for help of any kind. And since we all know this, we are overcompensating by offering our help every other second.” Standing, she brushes the wrinkles out of the thighs of her jeans.“So, with that being said, Imma leave you to it. Whatever ‘It’ is. Ew.”

“‘Ew’ whatever. _You’re_ the one who just handed me the key to the Porn Universe.”

“Uh, that’s Porntopia. And you’re welcome, Handmaiden. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with a starship pilot.”

A smirk played about his lips. “Dottie in town?”

Charlie’s face twists into a pucker. “Don’t call her that. She’ll end you.” She raises onto her tiptoes and plants a peck on his cheek. “Call me if you need me, nerd stuff or otherwise.”  
He quickly reaches out and hugs her before she can get away. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for… everything.”

One more smile and a flash of the Vulcan salute, and Charlie’s out the door.

With a heavy, and relieved sigh, Dean loses his smile. The two and a half hours Charlie had spent setting up the internet and the computer and the entertainment center, and the security system were exhausting. Emotionally and physically.

Maybe it was good that everyone was busy, and that only Sam and Charlie had been available. A whole group of folks might overwhelm him with their concern.

  
                            ●●●

 

“You know, it’s awful far out here.”

“You don’t say,” Dean replied dryly.

Bobby made a face. “Is this what passes for sass here in the sticks these days?”

Dean sighs. “Sam’s worried I’m too far from civilization, Charlie has me hooked up with all the porn I could ever want, Benny wants me to go fishing with him every weekend, Ash wants to help me start up a pot farm, Jo thinks I need a cat, or a Rumsfeld--”

“Ain’t no other Rumsfeld in the world--”

“Everyone thinks I’m isolating myself from the world, Bobby.”

“What does Ellen think?” The man sounded like he already knew the answer.

“She thinks I’m hiding.”

“I knew I liked something about that woman.”

“Haha.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you? Hiding?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, making the decision to speak plain. “I’m tired, Bobby. Just tired. Tired of having people constantly hovering, making sure I’m ok. It’s too much all the time. I haven’t had a moment alone, Bobby. Do you know what I _haven’t_ done?”

“I don’t need to hear about your sex life, Dean.”

“ _Grieve_ , Bobby. I haven’t been able to _grieve._ I keep getting interrupted by well-meaning people with concerned faces asking if I’m ok. The truth is that I’m not sure if I’m ok. That’s why I’m all the way up here. I’m not sure how I am; that’s why I’m up here, to figure it out. But according to my family, moving up here implies isolation and wrongdoing, but for me it means I get to be close enough to my family to ask them for help if I need it, but far enough away that I don’t feel smothered.

“I’ve got a lot more time off, so I’m going to do what I can to make my new home as awesome as I can, while getting ready to get back to work.”

Bobby was quiet for a moment. “Well, at least you’ve got a plan.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”


	2. Prologue Part Two: In the Beginning--Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel Novak has had some trouble. His older brother Gabriel, with help from their sister Anna, has decided to help him out by relocating him. It's not WitSec serious, but Castiel decides to humor him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what it is about this story, or my life, that requires //so much// hard work just to write/edit a chapter and get it posted on a schedule. I guess it doesn't help that the updated version, with all those new words, was blasted into the ether. 
> 
> Oh well.

_A long time ago, in a living room, not far away  ..._

  


“Gabriel, I don’t know...” The whole thing sounded preposterous, and made up. He wouldn’t put it past his brother.

“Whaddya mean, Cassie? This kinda thing is right up your alley.”

“An alpaca farm is right up my alley?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t it?”

“...”

Gabriel took advantage of the brief silence. “Listen, there’s a small apple orchard, and I know you are into bees, way more than any adult should be--”

“Bees are fascinating creatures, Gabriel-”

Gabe holds his hands up. “Save it for Cain, kiddo.”

“Who’s Cain?”

“The bee guy.”

Castiel Novak sighed in frustration. “Is this a guy who dresses as a bee or does he actually understand the apiary world?” With Gabriel, it could go either way.

“He actually knows about bees. Come _on_ , Cassie. At least just go with me to check it out. You need to get the hell out of here for a while.”

Castiel sighed, choosing to ignore the pity he saw in his older brother’s golden eyes as they wandered over the dusty room. He wasn’t angry; he knew his brother was only trying to help “Fine, Gabriel. I could use a vacation,” he said, a tone of bitterness coloring his words.

“You won't regret it, bro.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Gabriel.”

 

  * ●●



 

_A few weeks later..._

 

He’d been expecting Neverland. Carousel, circus tent, animals everywhere. But it was… normal. It looked like a farm. Sort of. Behind the very normal-looking one-story house and yard, there were alpacas and goats bleating from a pen that was adjacent to an oddly new-looking barn.

“Gabriel, how exactly did this land come to be in your possession?” He didn't exactly know what his brother was up to, but he knew there was something up. Even more so when Gabriel answered so smoothly. “Won a poker game with the Devil.”

However, once Castiel saw the modest apple orchard, and the bee hives beyond, it didn't really matter what his brother was up to. He was falling in love.

So he just ignored it irritatingly smug look on Gabriel’s face as Castiel spoke with “the bee guy,” Cain. He just blocked out his brother, his problems, everything, while he fell in love with the acres of green, green grass, the fresh air, and the soft sounds of the atypical farm animals behind him. Not to mention the quiet buzzing of the busy bees in the background.

Castiel’s brain was working, already thinking about the flowers he wanted to bring in.

Gabriel parked himself on the covered porch, far away from the hives, and got busy on his phone, letting his brother speak with Cain about his methods for keeping the bees happy.

Two hours later, after a thorough tour of the land--which was plentiful, considering how compact everything was--the brothers were headed back to civilization.

“Well?” Gabriel knew his brother. This was totally down Cassie’s alley. The bee’s knees, one might say. This was something that could make his little brother happy, something that had been difficult to do, as of late.

The younger man looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye, not willing to give the older man the satisfaction of knowing that the place had indeed been ‘right up his alley.’ “It was ok.”

Gabe chuckled. “Mmmhmmm. Yeah. Right. ‘Ok.’”

Cas didn’t say anything.

“I’ll take your silence to mean that you approve. Well, good. Anna has your stuff packed and ready to go. You’ve got the couch until the movers arrive.”

It took a few miles for Castiel to find his voice again. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

“Anytime, little bro. Any. Time.”

 


	3. By Dawn's Early Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Mills gets called out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night because of a disturbance on the Novak Alpaca Farm and Apiary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a long time to figure out what to do with this chapter, since I hadn't been the one to originally write it. Well, after Jody being a badass in the final eps of the season, and then the good news about the Wayward Sisters, and then of course, the newest Stands campaign, I really wanted to keep the chapter as it has always been, but with my changes and embellishments, which were actually pretty minimal. Nikki wrote a fine chapter, she did. I really enjoyed getting to see the beginning through Jody's eyes after the prologue, but before things really got going. 
> 
> I've made attempts to post this chapter all week, but mostly when I was at work, and I ran out of time. And then at home, I've been super lazy, so I've been sitting on this for a tiny bit. Sorry. Please enjoy.

Jody was used to calls out to the sticks. Land disputes and farming accidents were par for the course for the sheriff; what she wasn't used to were the five AM wake up calls from Cas Novak because of a disturbance on his farm. She really hoped the teenage population of the town wasn’t feeling the need to take selfies with his animals in the middle of the night,  _ again.  _ Nice as he was, she didn’t want to hear the lecture about  ‘disturbing their  _ rem _ cycles.’

Cas was a neighborhood favorite. His farm, odd thing that it was, was the talk of the town, and, well, so was he.  _ Tall, dark, and brooding  _ could be one description. He was gorgeous, but a little odd. Which meant he fit right in. 

For the past several years, with the help of Cain Adamson, Novak worked his acreage, attended local council meetings, and the annual Harvest Festival wouldn't get off the ground without his driving force and meticulous organizational skills behind it. He was level-headed, kind and utterly diplomatic, so a heated phone call at the asscrack of dawn certainly was out of character.

She took a deep breath, steeling her spine to get ready to not-chase a bunch of teenagers through an apple orchard. Joke was always on the kids: Cain Adamson lived on the other side. And he was a light sleeper. And kinda scary.  

Navigating the dirt roads leading up to the property was easy enough. She knew her territory like the back of her hand. At a quarter to four AM they were completely deserted. The moon lit the Novak mailbox in pale light, the long, gravelled driveway spiraling out behind it and up to the ranch-style home.

The emergency lights were on out back, so that’s where she headed. Past the house, through the freakin’ petting zoo, skirting the orchard (she was terribly allergic to bees, and definitely didn’t want to be the one to wake Adamson if he wasn’t already up), and headed toward the storage shed.

The sound of raised voices greeted her from behind the building.

“-son of a bitch is overreacting, Sammy.”

“No, actually, Dean, he’s well within his rights.  _ You _ need to-”

_ Son of a bitch.  _ She’d know those voices anywhere. And they weren’t high schoolers.  _ Damn it. _

“Amusing as this discussion is I believe my ‘White Knight’ as you called her, has arrived.” That was Novak, his wry humor seeping through his tired voice. 

“Morning, boys. I sure hope you guys have a good excuse for dragging me out of bed before the chickens and llamas.”

“Alpacas,” Cas corrected quickly.

“My apologies,” she moved on smoothly. She’d made the mistake several times before but kept forgetting to Google the differences.

“Jody-” Dean’s huffy exclamation was cut off by Novak

“Sheriff Mills, so glad you could make it. Could you please explain to Mr--Winchester, was it? Mr Winchester, that I didn’t order the early morning wake up call?” It was the most hostile Jody had ever heard him, and he was glowering heavily past the younger Winchester’s brick wall-ish form at Dean.

“While you’re at it, Jody, can you inform tall, dark and douchey here that what I do on my property is none of his business.” Dean shot back venomously.

“It matters when you disturb _my_ property--” 

“For God’s sake guys, can you just knock it off for one-” Sam tried, but was cut off by the pair of men immediately diving into a heated tirade. By the sound of it they were simply repeating the same argument they had already gone over, and judging by the exasperation on Sam’s face he’d already heard enough of it that he was about to crack, too.

“ _ALRIGHT!_ ” All three of the far larger men started at her shout; using her Mom voice could have that effect. “You two just cool your jets. Sam, I want _you_ to explain what the hell you’re doing down here at this hour. Last I heard Jess was in her third trimester and ready to burst.”  

“You’re right, Jody, um, Sheriff Mills. She’s ready to go, but my brother decided that it had been a while since he’d caused a ruckus, so he caused one. And then Mr. Novak called you, and that’s when Dean decided that if Mr. Novak was calling the law, then  _ he  _ was calling his lawyer.” Sam looked utterly annoyed at that fact.

“Okay then. Mr. Novak, can you explain-in as few words as possible-why I’m here?”

“Mr Winchester decided to use my land for a firing range. I was awoken by gunshots on my property and called you immediately, Sheriff, before heading out to see if the animals were ok.” Cas frowned deeply, looking increasingly annoyed. “When I found Mr Winchester out here, I carefully but loudly made my presence known. I then asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, even though I didn’t know if he was disturbed or drunk, or a criminal. All I knew is that he was armed.”

Dean made a noise of protest which was silenced by three identical frowns aimed at him. “Wait your turn Dean, I’m getting to you.” She turns back to Cas. “Anything else?”

“I think that about covers it.” 

“Alright, Sam you go home to your wife. I’m gonna give your brother a ride home so we can chat. Cas, just call me at the office if you decide you want to press charges. Drunk tank is full tonight.” 

Once again Dean attempted to protest, but she grabbed him by the ear and led him towards her cruiser before he could say a word.

 

 

  ●●●

 

 

She waited until Dean was trapped in her backseat behind the cage to interrogate him. “Okay big guy, spill. What the hell were you doing shooting off guns in the middle of the night?”

“I was bored. And it was one gun, and a pellet gun, at that.” She almost laughed when she caught his pouty reflection in her rearview.

“Bored at three in the morning?” she quirked an eyebrow. “How about next time you turn on some infomercials and consider how valuable a knife you never need to sharpen would be.”

Dean didn’t answer, he scowled at his knees. Jody went silent. Her time as sheriff had taught her enough about people that she knew when someone was about to crack. She knew when to push, when to pull back. So she kept silent, letting the crunch of gravel under tires and rumble of the engine speak, the seconds ticking by until they arrived at Dean's driveway. He finally caved as the house came into view, words bubbling up and spilling as they approached.

“It’s just so quiet-Have you ever slept out here? It's creepy and the house creaks. I thought it would be just what the doctor ordered, a little peace and relaxation. But all I hear are bugs...and sometimes…” She waited for him to finish the thought, but he seemed to want to keep this one to himself. “And as for Novak, I didn’t even realize I was on his property until he was yelling at me. I just needed something to take my mind off-” As soon as the thought came, Dean looked furious at himself for almost allowing the words to come out.

She looked at him in the rearview.“You know I get it, right? When Sean and--and Owen-- when they were...gone I didn’t sleep properly for months. I still wake up in the night expecting Owen to crawl into my bed because he had a nightmare, or needed a glass of water.” Her bittersweet smile was fleeting. Her heart ached at the thought. “Suffering a loss alone takes serious guts, but next time you can’t sleep, maybe the TV suggestion might be a brighter idea? And don’t be mad at Novak. He’s a good guy, and I’m betting he’d accept an apology and a slice of Ellen’s pie for letting me talk him out of pressing charges.” He seemed to consider the idea, but not be happy about it. “Just think about it okay?And next time, give Sam or Bobby a call before you go tromping in the sticks with a loaded weapon.”

When Dean nodded, she got out and opened his door.

“It doesn’t go away, but it gets manageable,” she offered as a final thought.

He breathed a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Jody.”

She watched him as he headed up his driveway, shoulders slumped in defeat and thought,  _That man could use some good things in his life._

Sheriff Mills didn't know this, but the Universe agreed with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 A tiny bit of a clue about what's going on with Dean.  
> 2\. The fact that he never really talks back to her [in the show] just tells me how much respect that man has for her.  
> 3\. Jody is such a good mom/sister/aunt/badass/everything.  
> 4\. Thank you, Kim Rhodes, for bringing this amazing woman to life.  
> 5\. I'm teamfreewill12 on tumblr.


	4. A Declaration of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a strange battle being fought, both at the property line and in our boys' minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So GISHWHES-as-we-know-it is over. Back to the Real Life. I've got a little extra energy, so I'm posting not one, but TWO chapters this week! Luckily there isn't much that has had to be changed or embellished to fit the new vision of the story. That being said, if you follow this story, then you've read those chapters before.
> 
> Also
> 
> This is another of my former co-writer's chapters. I thought it was hilarious, so I saw no reason to change much of it. It's part of why I like this story so much and refuse to let it go.
> 
> I dedicate these next two chapters to the chronically ill, to all my favorite fic writers who are having hard time right now. I feel your feels. <3

There's a fence. There's a goddamn  _ fence _ . There's a  _ goddamn, motherfreaking  _ **_fence_ ** dividing the property line. And not  _ just _ a fence, but a fence covered in impossible-to-miss neon yellow signs that told him to "Keep Out," that told him there was "No Trespassing Allowed."

Once he'd gotten some sleep, got his brain working right, Dean felt bad about waking the guy up, tromping all over his property, shooting off firearms in the middle of the night, and causing a ruckus in general.

He'd honestly not realized his closest neighbor was  _ that  _ close, hadn't realized that he'd wandered off his own land. He just...couldn't sleep. It was too quiet, too lonely. 

In light of that, Dean thought maybe he and neighbor Novak could hang out, have a beer, so he decided to take Jody's advice and apologize. He'd even stopped by the Roadhouse and snagged not just a piece of pie, but a whole damn pie. Ellen's famous ginger peach pie, to be precise, his favorite right after her apple cinnamon but before her sweet and sour cherry.

But now there was a fence blocking his way.

It had only been two days since the neighbors had met at dawn, and yet, there was a complete, ranch-style fence not-so-subtly defining the boundary in front of him.

Dean wasn't good with boundaries. Not unless he was the one setting them. And right now, this particular boundary was pissing him the hell off.

What. The. Fuck.

Not wanting to think about why the fence was there and why it had been put up so fast, Dean focused on what he could do to piss off his neighbor, With one last glare at the offending fence, the bright yellow signs screaming  _ Challenge!  _ instead of  _ Caution!  _ Dean deliberately peeled the plastic wrap from the pie and grabbed a handful, which he promptly shoved in his mouth defiantly.

" _ My _ pie," he mumbled through a mouthful of sticky fruit and crust. "No pie for you."

The pie tin was empty by the time Dean reached his back porch.

 

* * *

  
  


He’s dreaming. He’s deeply asleep and he is dreaming.

He’s on his land, a hidden bit far away from everything, and he’s lying on a blanket underneath an inky blue sky that is filled with billions and billions of twinkling stars. He isn’t stargazing alone on this calm and balmy night; there’s a strong pair of arms around him, and a sturdy chest pillowing his head.

He feels happy. The arms around him are protecting him, so he feels safe, loved. He’s about to turn around to share a kiss with his mystery man, but before he has a chance to turn around, he’s interrupted by a loud, buzzing rumble, like the sound of a motorcycle in need of a tune up. 

He looks up to see his horrible neighbor on a motorcycle, wearing a black leather jacket and  grinning salaciously at him. Before he has a chance to say anything, the man turns the bike around and drives off, cackling loudly.

_That_ was enough to wake him up. Cas opened his eyes and realized he’d been dreaming. But then he listened harder and instead of silence or nocturnal nature outside, he heard...what the hell _was_ that? He squinted hard, trying to listen.

When he figured out the noise, his face became a stone. _A lawn mower? Really?_ And accompanied by some monstrously loud music as well? He glanced over at his clock and saw that it was half past two.  _ Seriously? _

He flung the covers off himself so violently the whole shebang ended up twisted on the floor at the foot of the bed. Ignoring this, he quickly grabbed his phone off the nightstand where it was charging, barely remembering to unplug it first. 

Dialing the number he knew by heart, he stormed out his front door--without his shoes--and continued storming his way across his property, heading towards the brand new fence he’d had built on the edge of his property line.

Cas Novak was a nice man. He was not a man who was easily angered, and yet, in such a short time, one ridiculous man had done it twice in the space of a few days. He wouldn't allow himself to be a doormat for the bully, no matter how gorgeous.

He felt bad for calling Sheriff Mills on her private line, but she’d insisted he call her directly if he had any further troubles with his new neighbor so as not to involve the rest of the department. He felt as though this was being kept under wraps, but not for the reasons he thought.

“Novak,” she answered wearily. “Let me guess. Dean’s at it again.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m not sure what he’s doing, exactly, but I’m on my way down to the property line right now to find out. Would you mind--?”

She cut him off. “I’ll meet you there.” She sighed wearily. “And Cas?”

“Yes, Sheriff?”

“Don’t let him get to you. Dean’s a good guy. He’s…” She sighed again, unwilling to unload Dean’s story for him. “Just don’t let him get to you.”

“I’ll try,” Cas promised, before hanging up the phone and continuing on his trek.

He was a man of his word. He always kept the promises he made, never made promises he couldn’t keep.

But there was a first time for everything.

 

* * *

 

He’d taken good care of his brother. He could grill a mean burger. He could drink all the beer in the land and not get drunk.

He was also really, really good at being a total asshole. 

And since he wasn’t sleeping these days, he was able to plan on how to be an excellent asshole and how best to enact his assholery, in the middle of the night.

He had a few ideas, but he decided to start by mowing his lawn. In the dead of night. While blasting AC/DC. All on his own property. 

Dean figured the neighbor’s house was far enough away to not be bothered immediately by the mowing. Or the music. So he decided to sing along to the music as loudly as possible, aided in part by the four shots of whiskey he’d imbibed beforehand, in order to ensure that his neighbor was alert to his shenanigans.

It only took two and a half songs (“Thunderstruck” and “TNT”) for the neighbor boy to come running. Dean was singing along loudly and badly to “Highway to Hell” when the man burst out of the darkness, clad only in a pair of burgundy pajama pants. He wasn’t even wearing shoes.

Dean started to snicker at that but drew up short when he saw that lightly tanned skin up close and that those burgundy pajama pants were hanging fairly loosely from a pair of extremely gnawable hip bones. Not to mention that crazy, wild bed hair.

_ Holy shit.  _

He blinked a few times, losing the lyrics and forgetting his purpose before realizing that he was thinking of his nemesis in a non-nemesis kind of way. 

“ _ Are you kidding me right now?” _

Dean swallowed hard and put all non-assholey thoughts aside.  _ You’ve got a mission here, soldier. Remember the mission. _

Plastering a smirk on his face, he turned to greet the dark haired man, speaking loudly to be heard over the music and the mower. 

“Well, howdy, Farmer Novak. How are things on your side of the property line?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is using a little of this https://parallelnarratives.com/the-three-stages-of-maos-revolutionary-warfare/ and a little of this https://www.verbalwrites.com/blog/2017/1/13/4-stages-of-psychological-warfare in this little neighborly war of his that Cas basically wants no part of.
> 
> See you Wednesday for Chapter 5!


	5. Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little chit chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I know, I'm surprised, too. Guess the new meds are kicking in. And I think Gishing was actually therapeutic this year, so I'm feeling a little more energized. So \0/\0/\0/
> 
> Anyway, mini cliffie here. I'll be working on more for next week. It's easy, when you just have to edit and rewrite a bit. So it may be a little feast, a little famine for a little while. 
> 
> As with any chapter that I post, there's no beta reader, no one to catch my mistakes. I don't mind if you help me out in the comments section, but I try to be diligent.   
> Speaking of mistakes, and being diligent, I'm the laziest person ever, so there may be British vs American spellings in places--this was my cohort's chapter that I fudged with--and they are both right. I'm just not consistent. I recognise this as a weakness, and I hope that one day all the boxes will be coloured the same grey. But I'm so so tired.

Castiel was surprised; the kitchen in “Casa de Winchester” was surprisingly warm. The surfaces were a light wood, perhaps beech or pine, and it was large and airy. It made him want to lament his own kitchen, which seemed as though the designer had built it for function rather than aesthetics, sticking it on the side of his home, attached to the utility room as an afterthought. This though,  _ this _ was a kitchen built for family meals and Thanksgivings, for cooking hearty meals with a partner and negotiating past one another when doing the dishes. A cleared throat from Jody and raised eyebrow from the man himself pulled Cas from his musing, reminding him where he was currently sat, and with whom, His scowly glare blackened, causing Winchester to shift and turn away, grimacing.  

_ Whatever. Point for me. _

"If you two are almost done with your epic staring match, I would really, really love to go home. Don’t make me put you guys in shock collars.” 

There was a mixture of apologies and indignation that she cut off quickly. “No, really. You guys are driving me crazy and I have better things to do at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, so I'm giving you one last pass. I want you guys to meet properly, to talk this thing out. If I haven’t heard from you I’ll come check and make sure there isn’t a crime scene to sweep. I guess it hasn't occurred to the pair of you that I have an actual job to do, with real crimes, and a house full of teenaged hormones losing their minds?” They both winced as they remembered their youth, or that of their brothers’, in Cas’ case. “The next phone call I get from either of you had better be an apology ham, followed by a confirmation you've resolved all this bullshit.” She sighs heavily. “If you guys can’t keep the peace I’m putting you both in cuffs, understand me? And, no Dean, not in the sexy way, I know you’ve been dying to say something, but for fuck’s sake, stow your crap, I’ve got shit to do that doesn’t involve keeping you out of trouble, Winchester.”

The deafening silence she leaves in her wake is full of sharp edges and spite; neither of them wants to break it, for five whole minutes they both hold fast to their stubborn silence, until Dean gets up and heads to the fridge, where he pulls out two beers. He pops the top on both and gives one to his neighbor. 

“Thank you,” Castiel responds, because he’s polite as hell, even when he’s angry. 

Dean grunts, bringing the bottle to his lips and swallowing a third in one go. 

_ My god, this man is lovely,  _ Cas thought, bringing his own to his lips but taking a smaller drink. He watched as the aforementioned lovely hopped up onto the counter, a loud burp escaping his mouth. “Excuse me.” 

_ Castiel, what is wrong with you? That isn’t ‘positively charming’ like you were about to think. That’s actually a little gross, and a lot rude. _

_ Yes, but...so pretty... _

He stuck with that thought as he enjoyed the taste of the crisp amber beer.

“You know, I was gonna apologize to you… I bought pie and everything...” 

“Excuse me?”

“I brought Ellen’s famous ginger peach pie, actually.”

“Pie?” Cas was perplexed. “When did you bring me pie? You were apologizing with pie?” 

The concept isn’t entirely foreign to him. When Gabriel has to apologize he usually sends baskets of Fruit Roll-Ups that go largely uneaten until the man himself comes for movie night.In turn, Cas sends Gabriel actual food, complete with strong suggestions that he look into his diet before he gives himself diabetes and loses a foot. “Why would you apologize with pie?”

“Have you ever tried Ellen’s ginger peach pie?” Before he can mention that he provides her a good number of peaches, Dean is off and running.

“...so yeah, the fence kinda set me off for no good reason.”

“Ah. Yes. The fence may have been a little bit of overkill, even for me.”

Dean only nodded his agreement silently. 

“It’s still a nice fence though.”

“Yeah, real nice fence there, Cas.” The tone was snarky, but not mean, so Cas turned his eyes on the man across from him. That was a mistake. He almost got lost in those eyes. He needed to get a little closer to see whether they were hazel or green.

_ Ok, stop that. Change direction.  _ “Dare I ask what happened to my apology pie?”

“That was gone before I even got back to the house.” Cas can’t help but laugh at the pride on the man’s face.

Cas took a big swig of beer, shaking his head.

“Seriously, Cas, I am sorry about the gun thing… I didn’t realize you lived so close--or that I’d gone that far. I would have never even thought about it if I’d-”

“You aren’t the only one in the wrong, Dean. I think I may have flown off the handle a little in my retaliation, I… You caught me off guard. I woke up in the middle of the night with gunfire going off in my backyard, I hadn’t even known that the old Leahy place had sold and I called Jody before I had any clue what was going on.” He smiled crookedly. “I suppose I should be grateful that it was you and not some gun-toting maniac.”

Dean ran his hand through his hair. “Wasn’t it?” he asked ruefully. “Nah man, you did what you thought was right. I was one thousand percent in the wrong there.”

“And mowing your lawn after midnight blasting rock-and-roll is a perfect way to show how wrong you were?” He can’t help the eye roll, or the thick sarcasm that falls from his tongue.

Dean hopped down from the counter and headed for the fridge. “Hey, I didn’t think you were all that awesome, so I like to think I was trying to educate you in all things awesome so that you, yourself, could be as awesome as one Dean Winchester.” 

“Oh yes, naturally it was for my benefit!” That earns him a chuckle from the other man as he cracked open his second and took a long draw. The silence that ensued was a tiny bit more comfortable. 

“So are we ok, Cas?”

He liked the way the name sounded in the other man’s mouth. 

“Yeah, I think we’re okay.” 

“Good.” The statement is punctuated by Dean raising his bottle in a small salute before he takes another long pull from it, Cas returned it with his own and took a small sip. And if his eyes linger on Dean’s throat working as he swallows, then sue him.  

“So you lived up here long?”

Ah, the getting-to-know-your-neighbor thing, he hadn’t actually done this before, The Leahy  

family had been quiet and kept to themselves. There was a daughter he thought might be hearing impaired, but he knew very little other than that. He was close with his brother and Gabriel’s on-and-off girlfriend, Kali, and their cousin Balthazar, but that was it. The rest of the neighborhood was far enough away that he only ever had to give small nods and waves as they passed one another on errands and made small talk at the harvest festival.    
Cas glibly explained that he’d lived on the farm for the past several years, citing Gabriel as the reason. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Before they could dig too deeply into more small talk, Dean’s cell phone starting blasting “Sister Christian,” jarring them back into the reality that they were wide awake and chit chatting in the pre-dawn hours.

“Shit, it’s Sammy. Sorry, I gotta get this, Cas.”

“No, go ahead. I’m sure it’s important,” Cas replied, a little worried if the younger brother was calling the older at this time of night instead of the other way around. 

By the way Dean’s side of the conversation went, Castiel is right to be a little worried, hearing  shocked sounds and phrases like “But she’s got another three weeks,” and “Holy shit, Sammy!” and “Fuck this is really happening…”. By the time Dean is hanging up the phone he looks a little grey and completely terrified. He stares blankly at Cas for a full minute, looking as if he’s trying to resolve whatever issue has him stumped, but without using any words.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“That was your brother--? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way to the hospital with Jess.”

_ Oh. _

“And Jess is…?”

Finally, Dean finds his feet. “Wife, she’s in labour. Fuck!” He darts around wildly, searching for his car keys. “I gotta get over there-” he clumsily lurches into the kitchen counter heavily and recoils, clutching his ribs. “Fuckity fuck!!! I guess that second beer might have been a bad idea.”

“You can’t drive like this, Dean.” He’d looked, and noticed the second beer had a higher amount of alcohol than the first. Like, way more.

“I gotta go, Cas.” Dean’s found his keys.(They were nestled safely on a hook by the door-where they were supposed to be) he grabs a jacket from the back of his chair and makes a move to head out the door

Cas is on his feet and blocking the doorway before he knows it. His hand wraps around Dean’s wrist and takes the keys from him. “No, you are not driving like this. I can drive your car.”

“No, not a chance. Nobody drives my-”

“Yes, Dean.” He says it firmly and pulls the door open heading out to where the black beast of a car is waiting. “I am going to take you to the hospital, preferably via a diner so we can grab something to sober you up, and you are not going to argue.” Judging by the muffled complaints he hears as he pulls the driver side door open, Dean would very much  _ like  _ to argue, but has recognised that Cas isn’t in the mood for his shit. He guns the engine as Dean approaches and barely lets the passenger side door fall closed before they’re peeling out of the front yard, grit flying in their wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Thanks for the comments, the kudos.  
> It feels nice to be an active party in the fic world again.
> 
> Also, did anyone get an Endverse Cas in this one?


	6. A Dish Best Served...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those middle of the night phone calls, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's ass o'clock in the morning right now. It's not even light out yet. Can't sleep. Little sad about that. I have to be up in two hours. Anyway, can you believe it? Another update. Well, they are getting ready to slow down a touch, but I thought I'd go ahead and get what I've got posted while continuing to work on what's coming up.

One drive-thru grilled cheese and a suspect-looking piece of pecan pie later-- _ Dude, you always gotta get pie! _ \--the neighbors were on their way. They arrived at Lawrence General in record time, thanks to Cas’ lead foot and Mario Andretti-like maneuvering skills. Due to the late hour there were very few cars on the highway, mostly semis, otherwise Dean might have pitched a fit and told Farmer Cas to take it easy on his Baby.

Although, truth be told, the Impala could take it. The only thing he had left of his dad (the alcoholism and occasional temper and leftover daddy issues notwithstanding), Dean kept the ‘67 Chevy in pristine condition, and even souped her engine up a little. So yeah, Baby could take it. 

And if it was any other time, Dean might actually admire Cas’ driving, but he’s too worried and focused on Sam and Jess. It’s a few weeks too early for the baby to come, and after what happened the last time, well, he was worried. Even though his stomach rebelled at the thought of food, he scarfed down his grilled cheese and slice of pie and focused all extra energy and positive vibes on his brother’s family.

When they got to the hospital, Cas pulled into the emergency room dock and parked illegally-- _ Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll come back and move her _ \--and then the two of them hotfooted it through the doors, heading straight for Registration. 

“Jessica Winchester!” Dean gasped out before the clerk had a chance to say a word.

The clerk gave them an odd look. “What was the name again?”

“Jessica Winchester,” Dean replied, slowing down his breathing. “She’s in labor. She should have just been brought in.”

Eyes flickering between the two once more, the clerk looked down at her computer. “One second. I’ll check.” 

A few clicks and clacks later, she was frowning. “Winchester, you said?” Upon confirmation, she continued. “I have no record of any Winchester in the hospital at all, sir. Could she be under another name?”

Dean blanked. “Uh...uh...Moore! Yeah, that’s it. Jessica Lee Moore, born January 24.”

“That’s impressive,” Cas murmured beside him while the lady checked again.

“What?” Dean replied, his focus on the clerk.

“You know your sister-in-law’s birthday.”   
Dean shook his head slightly. “Don’t be too impressed. We share that date. That’s the only way I remember.”

Before Cas could file that info away, the clerk spoke up. “I’m sorry, sir. Sirs. But there is no Jessica Winchester  _ or _ Moore currently registered in the hospital.”

Confused, Dean took his phone out of his pocket. “Let me call my brother and see if something’s happened.” Cas took pity on him when he saw the green-eyed man’s hands shaking and plucked his phone out of his hands.

“Hey!” 

Cas ignored him and scrolled through the most recent calls. He hit the contact that was labelled ‘Bitch,’ assuming that was Sam, and handed the phone back to Dean.

“Thanks,” he huffed quietly, his eyes wide with worry.

Cas stepped back to give him a bit of space while he made his call, wondering why the man looked so worried.

“Sammy? I’m at the hospital but you aren’t. Where are you?”

“Bazinga, sucker!”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard that right. “Jess? Where are you?” He was so confused. 

“I’m at  _ home _ , with my  _ husband _ , eating popcorn and ice cream and hot sauce where I’m  _ supposed  _ to be in the middle of the night, with my husband by my side, rubbing my stupid back because I can’t freaking sleep.”

Dean paused, worry and confusion still furrowing his brow. “Wait. So you’re  _ not _ in labor? Is that what you’re telling me? Is this a joke?”

“Yes! That is  _ exactly  _ what I’m telling you. Bazinga, sucka!”

“Stop saying that.” He pressed his hand over his eyes so hard he saw stars.

“Only if you promise to stop calling my husband out at all hours of the night for stupid shit.” Jessica Winchester did not pull any punches.

“Yeah, ok,” he agreed faintly. “You got it.” His heartbeat was still rapid, his nerves unsettled.

“Nighty night, bro.”

She hung up without waiting for a “goodbye.” Dean exhaled hard and bent in half, his hands on his knees to brace himself. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm down, but he still felt dizzy.

“Dean, are you alright?”

_ Fuck.  _ He forgot about Farmer Novak. Cas. Dean nodded, trying to catch his breath and squelch the remaining panic. He started at the hand on his forearm but looked up to see concerned blue eyes staring down at him. 

Then he realized why the registration clerk was giving them such strange looks and started laughing.

Cas’ look of concern deepened and was layered with a look of confusion. “Dean? What’s so funny?” He could tell the man was on the verge of having a panic attack, and that sometimes manifested as maniacal laughter, but that didn’t seem as if that’s what this was.

Dean snorted, lifting his head once more. “Take a look at yourself, Farmer Cas.”

Cas looked down at himself, a blush crossing over his face and bare chest. He was shirtless, shoeless, and his hair probably was wild. Then he looked at Dean, whose t-shirt was holey, his shorts ripped, and broke into laughter as well. 

Once their laughter trailed off, Dean stood up straight, his green eyes twinkling and calm. “What do you say we get the fuck out of here?”   
  


 

 

The drive home was much easier and laidback. Since Dean had sobered up and calmed down, he took the wheel, leaving Cas free to enjoy the ride back. 

The windows were down, there was Zeppelin playing low on the radio, the night was on its way to day, and that is when Castiel Novak realized he was sitting next to an extraordinarily attractive man.

An extraordinarily attractive man who happened to have a penchant for pushing his buttons and acting like a jackass, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

_ Wait.  _

He must be tired. He was pulled out of bed at an ungodly hour, it was almost time for him to be awake to get to work. My, it had been a strange evening.

That’s it, right?

_ Right? _

Ok, but no. He couldn’t deny that Dean Winchester was a very attractive man, with that short brown hair, those ridiculous  _ green _ eyes (he’d finally gotten close enough to tell), those broad shoulders, and sexy smirk of his…

_ Well, hell. _

Castiel Novak realized he may just be in danger of becoming infatuated with his neighbor. And he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to stop it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part makes me giggle.


	7. An Awkward Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a bad morning, a worse afternoon, but his evening starts to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those chapters that I couldn't figure out what to do with. It wasn't mine, so I didn't exactly know the intent behind it, so I had to spend two weeks figuring out what the intent was. The conscious Me still hasn't figured it out. The subconscious Me knows but isn't telling.  
> At any rate, I would like to thank my former co-creator for leaving me so much material to work with. I really couldn't have gotten it this far without her words in this world, so thanks, ex-wifey. xo  
> I split this tiny little chapter into 2 so that you'd have something to read sooner rather than later, and so that I'd be able to get the next tiny little bit out in the next few days. 
> 
> I appreciate those of you who are sticking with me!

“ _ Son of a bitch!” _

To say that Dean was having a bad day would be a vast understatement. After a mostly restless, nightmare-filled night, he finally dozed off at daybreak, only to be woken by his too- early work alarm, and on the proverbial wrong side of the bed. 

A cold shower began his day; the water heater Benny had just installed was already busted. Thank fuck it was still under warranty.

His early morning drive into Lawrence was quiet. His shower had gone at such icy speed that he was almost twenty minutes early for his shift--he’d been so pissed about the cold shower that he’d forgotten to make coffee or stop and grab some. He grumbled about the thought of Bobby’s sludge-like elixir in the 1970s Mr. Coffee the man refused to upgrade as he settled himself into the leather of the Impala, pulling out his phone to try that level of Candy Crush again. He was early, which would normally get him brownie points, but Bobby hadn’t yet arrived.

More grumbles. He’d bitched and moaned for a good month about not being able to have his own key, but Bobby’d told him  _ No,  _ in no uncertain terms was he to have a key until Bobby had decided Dean didn’t want to drown himself in work.

Dean shook his head and gave a fleeting thought to texting Sam and berating him about his wife a little when his window was filled with plaid. Three heavy raps on the windshield and a muffled “Git movin’ ya idjit!” and the older man was on his way. 

Looked like Bobby was in a lovely mood. Turns out Garth, who usually ran the wrecker, had called in, and there was a pile-up on the highway that would mean hours of hauling wreckers back and forth, not to mention the scheduled and walk-in business. So that meant Dean was up for the tow with the Stoner Twins, Andy and Ash. Ellen’s daughter Jo would be running the front for most of the day before heading off to her actual job at the Roadhouse while Bobby oversaw the schedule, leaving that creepy ass Gordon in charge of the garage. Dean didn’t like that. 

He asked Bobby time and again why he kept the man on staff, and Bobby had only replied “What better way to keep an eye on him?” Bobby was a cryptic old fuck.

What an awesome day it was turning out to be.  _ Not. _ He’d be at it for hours, and there’d be a fuckton of paperwork, not to mention having to see Jody, once again in her professional capacity, but in a different way than when she was telling him off for being a jackass.

Resigned to his fate, Dean dragged ass for the next four hours. But once the highway was clear and six different insurance companies had been contacted, he finally managed to get enough time to sit down to his lunch at three, half-starved and on his last nerve.

He could use a couple of beers. Maybe some company. He vaguely thought of asking his neighbor down for a beer, but then realized he didn’t have the man’s number, and shot the thought down before it could bear fruit. He just finished his paperwork, helped out at the front desk until he could take no more, and then informed Bobby that he was clocking out early, and then Dean cleaned up quickly before hightailing it out of the yard.

  
  
***                                                                                                                            ***                                                                                                                                     ***

 

Ellen Harvelle was the kind of woman who could instill fear with a single look, inspire poetry with a burger patty, and get Dean six kinds of drunk in an hour or less. Of all the reasons Ellen had stolen Dean's heart though, he held her pies were in the most esteem. Within three minutes of entering The Roadhouse, he had a beer and slice of Shoo Fly Pie, which made every annoyed huff die before passing his lips.

When Ellen slid gracefully onto the bar stool beside him and fixed him with a penetrating look, he ignored her. Pie first, explanations later.

"If you think you get to ignore me while you stuff your face, you're wrong, Winchester. Spill or I confiscate the goods." Dean frowned at his plate, trying to work through the oversized bite and considered his explanation. It wasn't an idle threat, he knew, so he mulled over his thoughts, chewing thoroughly.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to accept me telling you I’m having a shitty day, and I just wanna forget about it, huh?” he raised an eyebrow, buying time he knew, and the stern glare that was aimed at him was proof enough that Ellen knew it, too. “Yeah, didn’t think so…I dunno where to start.”

“Well, how about I give ya some startin’ points? Like maybe how Sam was in here two days ago moaning about wakeup calls at the ass crack of dawn, or how good old Sheriff ‘Patience of a Saint’ Mills was drinking me out of whiskey and bitching up a storm, and then to top it off I got a call a half hour ago from that old goat Singer, telling me you had a bug the size of Boston up your ass and were heading my way.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Ellen’s upheld palm. “And I know you’ll have some wonderful explanations, but the fact is, boy, this whole scenario--the new house--it was supposed to be your nice new start. So why don’t you explain to me why I’m having to deal with fallout from your tantrums?”

Dean winced heavily, placing his fork on his plate, having scraped the thing clean. “Yeah I can kinda see why you're bitching me out--and I don’t blame you for it. I didn't really get that fresh start I was looking for, instead I went 'Neighbor from Hell' all over Lawrence's favorite farmer and earned myself a million strikes from Sam and Jody in the process. And the worst thing is he's a really nice guy, if I hadn't been a complete douche we could have...well, whatever.”

"So you got yourself a brand new frenemy, congratulations." She quirked a brow with a wry smile. "So. What are you gonna do to fix it?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, the last time I tried I ended up eating an entire peach pie with my hands and sulking on my porch. What would you suggest?" 

Ellen smirked. "Well, since solo pie-eating contests haven't proved fruitful, maybe you could try to talk to him, get to know him?" She shrugged, about to continue when the door opened and she turned to greet the newcomer. Dean busied himself with his beer, the pie plate now scraped clean, and only looked up when he heard his name.

"Dean?" And wouldn't you know it? There stood farmer Novak, his worn jeans trailing in dust, his shirt covered in it. "I didn’t expect to see you here.”

"I wasn't planning on being here, but shitty days demand beer so here I am." He gave a jaunty salute with his bottle and drained it. "I was just about to head off, actually, I've got a bunch of crap to get done-"

"--And I'm sure it can wait while I finish up Castiel's order, Dean. I know you were raised with better manners than that, boy." This was shouted from the kitchen, warring against the sound of fryers and grills. Dean rolled his eyes and grinned when Castiel caught him in the act, not even slightly surprised when Ellen continued, "and you can quit with the eye rollin' boy."

After a moment of awkward silence, Dean pushed out the stool next to him with his foot. Novak smiled softly. "It seems Mrs Harvelle knows you quite well." 

"My family’s from here, so I've known Ellen forever. It’s pretty sweet cuz I totally get freebies." This earns him a laugh, "So what’s brought you so far from the farm?"

Castiel's looks minutely uncomfortable before Ellen comes barging from the kitchen, take out boxes piled precariously and dragging the delicious smell of cheeseburgers with her, and grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Apparently he got a tip-off that I made the best pie in town and wanted to take some to his neighbor.” Ellen smiled at Dean pointedly. “Burgers are  _ my _ idea, though.”

Castiel was staring at his dusty boots, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. Dean couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face, “Yeah, I had a really shitty morning, so burgers sound awesome though.” He stood, dropping plenty of bills in thanks on the bar and turning to Cas, “I’ve got this awesome back deck.” He relieved Ellen of Cas’ purchases and looked at the man expectantly. Dean knew he’d simultaneously relieved Cas’ embarrassment, and won back some points with Ellen so with a wide smile at both he headed for the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this chapter wasn't betaed, nor was it thoroughly edited. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway.


	8. The Breaking of Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys run into each other at The Roadhouse. (or is it just the Roadhouse? Just Roadhouse?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't much, but I actually cut about two pages worth of something that didn't fit this narrative, so there is about 1k less than when I started. This is a combo, partly mine, partly the ex's. But yeah, a short read. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy, and if you happen to see any continuity issues, feel free to be a good egg and point them out. I'm taking a new medication that makes my vision blurry, and I'm already needing a new pair of glasses, so basically, don't be mean, I can't see, lol. Do me a solid and help me make it better. 
> 
> I thank you all for the Hits, the Kudos-both here and on other stories, the comments. Thank you!

 

Cas ends up at Dean’s house, on his “awesome” back deck. It made sense, as he’d been planning on delivering the food to Dean’s house anyway. He hadn’t planned on  _ staying _ , but fortunately, it seemed that Ellen had packed enough for two.

“C’mon, man. You wouldn’t want me to eat all of this alone, would you? I mean, there’s pie in here. And I’ve got plenty of beer.”

Oh  _ sure. _ Like he really needed to be around alcohol when he was alone with Dean Winchester.

But he acquiesced to Dean’s request to stay. It would be nice to have company for dinner. His place could be a little lonely sometimes, and the bees could only keep up so much of the conversation.

And whatever was in the bag smelled so heavenly it made his stomach growl. So he stayed. 

They ate bacon cheeseburgers and fries on the back deck, washed them down with beer, and topped all of that off with a piece of sinful cherry amaretto pie, Dean’s with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, Cas’ without. 

"I don't know how you aren't already bursting at the seams." 

Dean shrugged, still chewing. Thankfully he swallowed before he spoke. “I love food. I love burgers, love pie.”

“I bet your favorite holiday is Thanksgiving,” Cas commented, beer halfway to his mouth.

Dean grinned boyishly, a twinkle in his eye, and--was that a  _ blush _ on his cheeks? “You got me. I like to cook almost as much as I like to eat.”

Cas admired that blush a moment before replying. “You cook?”

Dean sat back in his chair and took a sip before replying. “Always have. Used to have to dress up mac and cheese so eight-year-old Sammy would eat it. I like stuff that tastes good, so I figured out how to do it myself. Now I kind of get ridiculous about it on holidays. Bobby takes care of the bird, Ellen takes care of the desserts, I take care of the rest.”

“What do Sam and his wife take care of?”

Dean laughs outright. “Sammy? He gets the canned cranberry sauce that he absolutely has to have. Jess takes care of the rolls and some appetizers. She’s a great baker, but after their first Thanksgiving together…” He shook his head and snickered. “Well, it was a disaster, to say the least. I swooped in to help, so now it’s my job. And I definitely don’t mind.”

The man whose green eyes looked soft when he talked about his family was a far cry from the jackass he’d first met. Cas couldn’t help but melt a little. He could tell how much Dean loved his family. He wanted to know more, but didn’t feel it prudent to pry into the man’s background, as they were barely acquaintances, and wouldn’t be able to offer much in an information exchange.

“What about you, Farmer Novak? Who’s in charge of the cooking at your Thanksgiving?” 

Cas struggled not to blush at the gentle teasing in Dean’s tone. Something happened to his insides when the man called him that in that tone. 

“Actually, if my brother Gabriel is available, he and I go out to dinner. He only cooks things that can be made from sugar, and I’m barely capable of boiling water for pasta without causing a minor catastrophe.”

“Sounds like Sammy,” Dean chuckled. “So it’s just you and your brother?”

He knew the question was inevitable. Everyone asked. 

“Basically,” Cas replied, keeping his gaze on the beer bottle as he pulled off the label. He didn’t want to see the pity in those green eyes that he saw in so many others. 

“Well, then, Cas, you’ll just have to join our party this year. Can’t have you missing out on the meal of the year when you’re so close. Your brother, too.”

He flicked his eyes up to meet Dean’s, surprised when he found understanding reflected back instead of the pity he expected. Cas’ smile was hesitant when it came. 

“I’d like that.”

Dean nodded and clinked his empty bottle with Cas’. “Cheers to that, man. How about another beer?”

Ordinarily, Cas would have either not been there or would have left after the first beer, staying in the first place only to be polite. But he didn’t want to leave, not just yet.

“Please.”

Dean gave the table a dull smack as he got up. “Back in a flash.” 

Alone on the deck for a few moments, Cas realized that smile, that man, might be the death of him. And he was ambivalent about that.

 

* * *

Dinner had been great--amazing, actually--and Dean was feeling warm and relaxed. His feet were propped up on the railing, and Cas was lounging in the chair beside him, telling him about a day in the life of a not-so-ordinary Kansas farmer. It was pretty fascinating stuff, and it was fun watching Cas really get into the whole organic, Mother Earth bit. It sounded like he really knew his stuff, his low voice dipping and pitching in his excitement. 

Dean didn’t mind listening to Cas go on and on. It was…nice, and so rare, to find someone who was so guileless they didn’t realise it was impolite to dominate a conversation completely with the subject of fleece superiority in alpacas vs sheep. It was kinda cute. 

Gross. Dean was being gross.

But Cas started it, what with all of…..that. He mentally waved his hand toward Cas.

The combination of good food, beer, and company had Dean wishing the night wouldn’t end. He was telling Farmer Novak all about the water heater, spending the day with Sheriff Jody directing his traffic, which earned him a wry smile and a remark. “Sounds like community service and time served. Case dismissed.”

He chuckled tiredly. “Yeah? I’ll take it.” It was that moment when Dean realized he was _ tired _ , honest-to-god-really-and-truly deeply exhausted. He was drifting as the thought hit him, not hearing Cas ask a question.

Hours, or years, later, he felt a strong hand lightly shaking his shoulder. “Dean?”

“Hmm? Wha’s up?”

“You aren’t, clearly.” Even in his disoriented daze, Dean could recognize sarcasm. He could also choose to ignore that sarcasm, which he did. 

“Dean, you should go to bed.” Dean shook his head. He’d never get back to sleep if he moved now. “Do you...should I be heading home?” He opens his eyes fully to look at the man. “I’m a bad host, but, will you stay...just...a…” He drifted off in the middle of the sentence. 


	9. Dean Winchester: Gold Medalist in Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Family Work Day at Dean's place. He starts on the roof alone, but ends up spilling his guts to a certain redhead, who offers what comfort she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm starting to get to the point where the actual writing slows down, because there is less stuff to work off of. Eep. So I worked a while on this longer chapter, hoping it will tide you over until the next. I've been super sick this past week while looking at this chapter, so there may be things that are confusing. Like why is Dean using a hammer for this situation instead of a nail gun? Well, I'm going with John Winchester's A + Parenting FTW.   
> Anyway, as the title states, I'm working this stuff out as I go instead of making an actual plan, so if you see anything truly weird, please let me know. Otherwise, please enjoy.

He is so embarrassed. He’s so stupid. He’s so confused. After what happened with Lisa, Dean hadn’t really been in a dating kind of place. He’s not ready. No matter how charming he found the very blue-eyed farmer. He couldn’t do that to the man, couldn’t bring him in on his drama. He wasn’t there yet. 

Dean wasn’t _ ready.  _ He’d moved back home for a fresh start, and it had been a while now, but he didn’t feel ready enough to invite someone back into his lair. But damned if that Farmer McArmsAlot didn’t make him want to open the door.

But he wasn’t  _ ready _ . He was still busted up. Maybe beyond repair. Maybe not. But he needed to fix himself up. And while he was at it, he was going to fix up his only slightly-busted house, too. 

So. To recap: Dean feels Embarrassed; Stupid; Busted. Yup. Gotta catch ‘em all.

Ok, well, what kind of plan was he going to need? Well, Avoidance always works. He was just going to pretend the other man didn’t exist. He’d been living there for months before he found the property line. He’d never met the man in day-to-day life; the time at the Roadhouse was the first and only time he’d seen the man in town. 

So for months he avoided the Roadhouse like the plague and kept mostly to the lumberyard, the scrapyard, and his own yard.

Even so…

It seemed the Universe liked Its jokes. Where once there had been no Cas, now there was so much Cas. Everywhere. It got so bad that the idea of grocery shopping would send him into a panic attack and send him two towns over to do his shopping. 

He played the avoidance game seven days a week. He didn’t feel safe anywhere. Farmer Novak could literally show up on his doorstep. His doctor told him to stop being paranoid and to up his Lorazepam dosage.

Summer slowly turns to Autumn, and Dean just stops worrying about Cas. His home gives him plenty to worry about, as does the nephew Jessica delivers just a tiny bit early (her karma, Dean pointed out, for faking it). Colton Braden Winchester’s lungs were underdeveloped, but a little time in the NICU took care of that. 

Now that Dean wasn’t the new News, now that the baby was everyone’s focus, maybe he could just relax and get some work done. If he was going to host his first Thanksgiving, he had to get busy.

  
  
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“OW! FUCK! GODDAMNFUCKSHITPISSMONKEYBALLSFUCK!”

Dean swore when he smashed his thumb for the fiftieth time. He was on the roof of his “Money Pit,” replacing the shingles that had blown off the last big storm, and he just couldn’t keep his mind on what he was doing. 

“Do you need me to come up there and do that for you?”

Dean carefully turned around to glare at his sister-in-law. “Shouldn’t you be--” The sun was getting to him. His comebacks were slower. “Growing your fetus or something?”

Shading her eyes, Jess smiled back up at him serenely. “At this point, it pretty much grows itself. And when it’s on the outside, it’s called a ‘baby,’ Dean.  _ Do _ you need a hand? I could send Sam up--”

“No! Don’t do that! Please!” His moose of a brother was a graceful as a giraffe on a trampoline. Upon his arrival, Dean had slapped a paintbrush into Sam’s hand and pointed him to a blank wall that needed a fresh coat, no ladders or tools required. The last thing Dean needed was to fix a sasquatch-shaped hole in the roof, and a hormonal headcase after his balls.

Jess, babe in arms, was “supervising” the house party. While Sam was painting the bedrooms, Bobby and Ash were downstairs upgrading the furnace and water heater so that Dean could survive the winter out in the sticks. Benny and Garth were working on the front porch, Benny’s wife Andrea was in the garage with Jo refinishing some shelves Benny had built as a housewarming gift, and Charlie and her friend Gilda were in the dining room, making Dean curtains for his kitchen. 

Since Jo and Ash were helping Dean, Ellen was holding down the fort at the Roadhouse, but she would be showing up for dinner--with pie for dessert--later on. 

His family was there for him, helping him. If his goddamn thumb didn’t hurt so badly he would cry a single manly tear.

“Well, obviously you need some sort of help up there--”

“Who needs help?” Charlie popped out of the house. Jess pointed to the roof. “Sweet! I’m on my way!” She disappeared back into the house to take the easy way up.

Dean turned another glare on Jess. “Thanks for that.”

She smiled sunnily. “You’re welcome. I’m going to go check on your roast.”

“Don’t let my brother near that crockpot!” He yelled after her, groaning when he heard her laugh.

Shaking his head, he knelt back down and waited for Charlie to arrive. It wasn't that he didn't believe in her capability. No in fact, she was a pretty crafty carpenter. She’d built him a wicked desk to house his equally wicked computer-related...stuff, so he knew she was able.

No, it was the talent she shared with the rest of the women in his family that he was afraid of: They could see right through him like the pane of glass he was, and weren’t afraid to call him on his BS. Not to mention, each of those women had their own ways of extracting information from him that he didn’t particularly want to part with, no matter how close-mouthed he tried to be.

And all Charlie had to do was be her chatty self. So he was doomed.

But he just didn’t  _ want _ to talk about it, didn’t want to give voice to any of the things that were currently clogging up his brain. It was equal measures of good, bad, and ugly, and he didn’t want to open the door and let any of those thoughts out, lest they become his current truth.

He didn’t want to be disrespectful to Cas, or the past. And there was no way he deserved any of the  _ Good _ , so he just embraced the Bad, and took the Ugly as it came--as it usually did--in the deepest part of the night. 

Dean was determined not to let Charlie get to him. But, as the old saying goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men...”

  
  
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“So, what’s up, bro?”

_ Nope. Don’t do it. Don’t give in. _

Dean pretended to be concentrating on the section of the roof he was working on. “Working on my roof, what’s up with you?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie put down her nail gun out down. He didn’t even have to  _ see  _ the Look she was giving him, he could  _ feel  _ it boring through the side of his head.

“C’mon, Dean. You’ve been up here for how long and  _ this  _ is the progress you’ve made?”

“What?” he asked defensively. “I’m being careful. I want to do it right so I don’t have to do it again anytime soon.”

“Oh, sure,” the redhead scoffed. “ _ That’s _ why most of your left hand is purple and probably throbbing. You should be using the nail gun.”

Dean winced as he looked at his hand but kept silent.

“You’ll need some ibuprofen for that.”

He nodded once.

“And some ice.”

“Yeah, ok, Charlie. I’ll get right on that.”

He could feel her eyes on him as he hammered. He thought he was home free when she picked up the nail gun again. 

But then she put it right back down. “Dean, what’s wrong?” Her voice was low, full of concern, and void of jokes.

“Nothing, Charlie. Everything is fine. Work more, talk less.”

“No, Dean, come on. I can tell when there’s a disturbance in the Force. And you know everyone below us is talking about it, right?”

His head whipped up. “No! What? Why?”

Another Look was directed his way. “Because we all  _ love _ you, Dean.” The  _ don’t be an idiot _ was implied. “We know you’re going through a hard time and we want to help you because we love you and want you to be happy.”

“What if I don’t deserve to be happy?” The words were out before he could stop them. 

Charlie scooted on her knees until she was next to him. “Of  _ course _ you deserve to be happy, just like the rest of us. Nothing you’ve ever done,  _ ever _ , would make it otherwise.”

His chest hurt. He knew that wasn’t true. “But Charlie--”

“ _ No _ .” She was insistent. “ _ Nothing _ . It was  _ not  _ your fault. You  _ know  _ this. Nothing you did that day, nothing you’ve done before or since makes you undeserving of a nice life.  _ Nothing. _ ”

His eyes welled up. “Fuck, Charlie,” he hissed, his eyes stinging.

Her understanding silence was all he needed for the floodgates to open. On the verge, he told her about his big gay crush, the dreams, the nightmares, how he didn’t feel he deserved any of his family or friends.

By the time he wound down, he felt a little raw, a little numb, which was a bit of an upgrade, really, his eyes were red and puffy, but he felt a little better.

"Dean, you've got to talk to a professional about this," Charlie told him softly, stroking his back. "You can't keep it all bottled up like this. Letting it fester does you no good. It only hurts you in the long run. If you want, I can talk to Pamela, see if she can give me a referral for you.”

“Who’s Pamela?”

  
“My therapist,” she replied pointedly. “Even the Queen of Moons gets the blues sometimes, handmaiden.”

She was right, he knew she was, but still he fought. "Charlie--"

"Dean, I don’t mean to pressure you into therapy. It legitimately may not be your thing, but you’ve got to talk to someone who doesn’t know you and can be completely unbiased and objective. I think you need someone to help you unpack some of the stuff that’s in your head, and while I know we are all happy to help, I feel that you think we are all too close for your comfort to reveal your deepest and darkest. And that’s ok.” She speaks earnestly and squeezes his hand. “I say all of this not to scare you into thinking there is something wrong with you, because there isn’t. I just want you to be happy. We all do. And talking to someone may help you on that path. Please, just promise me you’ll think about it."

He nods against her shoulder, too exhausted to fight back. "Ok. I promise."

"Thank you." She leaned back and kissed his cheek. "Now, let's climb inside and get you cleaned up. And if anyone asks, we'll just say I hit you in the nose with my giant head."

  
  
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A couple of hours later, after a good chunk of progress had been made, everyone washed up and got ready to sit down to the huge dinner Dean and Charlie prepared after climbing off the roof.

The familial chaos was like a balm to Dean's ragged soul. The act of preparing the meal, creating something awesome from bits and pieces gave him a warm feeling that not much else did. 

"Has anyone heard from Ellen?" Dean called over the din as he brought a platter of roasted potatoes and carrots over to the table.

"I'm right here," she announced, sailing into the dining room, pies in hand. "And look who I found wandering the streets. Everybody, this is Dean's neighbor, Cas Novak. Cas, this is everybody."

Everyone turned to greet the new arrival. Everyone but Charlie. She turned to Dean and whispered in his ear.

"You weren't wrong, handmaiden. He's hella dreamy."


	10. Guess Who's Coming to the Spanish Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas decides to take a walk and ends up at a family dinner, where he is interrogated by the most important members of Dean's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am at the end of the pre-written bits. The next chapter will pretty much be brand new material with its basis in the first chapters, so it might take a bit, or else there will be shorter chapters. I'm not really sure yet. 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading this story and anything else of mine.
> 
>  
> 
> edit: 8/12/18 Changed Cas's previous job. Not sure if that affects anything prior...Um...I'll go back. Maybe after I post another chapter?

Since coming to the farm, Cas Novak’s life was fairly calm and mostly stress-free. These days were nothing like the old days, when he’d be downing so much Pepto he might as well own stock in the company. He’d been doing a good job at not being stressed out with regards to the farm-- it’s hard to stress out over alpaca wool and honey--but then he met Dean Winchester.

Regardless of their beginning, Cas thought there had been the promise of _something,_ friendship at the very least, especially their last meeting. But then the man fell asleep on him and started avoiding him after that.

And Castiel knew that’s what Dean was doing. Where once they never crossed paths, now Cas saw the man everywhere; Dean would duck into the hardware store, the alley behind the convenience store, into Rowena’s Wiccan Wonders...Still, he would try to be friendly. He’d raise his hand in greeting, and the green-eyed man would do a 180 and head off in the other direction.

The one time he did catch the man, it was inside the sandwich shop. When he’d gone up to say “Hello,” he’d gotten a brusquely whispered “Go away, Cas, you can’t be part of this mess” before Dean swept past him to get his order and then on out the door.

At first, Cas was confused, and a little bit hurt. As the weeks went on and he brooded and stewed, the confusion and hurt turned to confusion and anger. Then he finally settled on Hurt and Angry, where he stayed and stewed some more. Until one Saturday evening when he’d had enough.

Cas decided he would do the one thing that would most likely annoy the hell out of Dean Winchester at the moment: Get up in his face and invade his space.

He had this epiphany of sorts while making sure the inhabitants of the farm were fed and watered. Muttering to the nice alpaca couple Luci and Meg, and the old billy goat Chuck, about the Dean situation (how what he knew of the man was frustrating, fascinating, and what he felt to be humanity at its finest) led Cas Novak to clean himself up and do the exact opposite as he was taught: instead of his nicest suit, he put on his most comfortable and worn jeans and a soft, white button-down shirt--with his cleanest boots, however.

His hair was a mess, begging for some pomade, or, at the very least, a rough brushing, but he’d talked himself into a tizzy and hadn’t made time for his hair. He did have just enough time to grab a jar of the honey he’d bottled most recently, oddly enough. He figured that if he came bearing gifts of food, Dean might not turn him away.

Deciding to walk to build up anticipation and his courage, he headed down his long driveway to the road. There, he began waffling on whether or not he really wanted to tromp over to Dean’s land and back into his “mess of a life.”

He’d walked about halfway when he decided to turn back. He was standing on the side of the road arguing with himself when Ellen Harvelle pulled up next to him.

“Whatcha doin’ Farmer Novak?”

Blast. Apparently that moniker had spread.

“Um. Taking a walk?”

Her brow raised a bit. “With a jar of honey?”

“It works well as a weight,” he responded lamely, in no way prepared to converse with anyone but Dean just then.

She huffed a laugh, her eyes sparkling. “Get in, kid. You’re coming to dinner.”

  
  
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And that’s how he ended up in Dean Winchester’s house, at Dean Winchester’s dining room table with Dean Winchester’s pot roast and all of Dean Winchester’s friends and family, who were apparently very intent on interrogating him, for whatever reason.

He knew he was a bit of a curiosity, but he figured that was because he didn’t share very much of himself with the town. Only what his farm yielded. That was all he shared. That, and Cain Adamson’s fascination with bees.

Ellen sat him down in between her daughter Jo and her foster brother Ash, a strange, mulleted man who could “find out anything about anyone” in less time than it took “to shotgun a beer.”

Jo spoke matter of factly about her extensive knife collection that she inherited from her father, and how she was very capable of using them.

He was confused by her pointed stare, but he smiled politely, making a mental note to tip her well the next time he was at the _Roadhouse_.

He knew Garth Fitzgerald and Gilda Fae; they were both members of the Harvest Festival committee with Cas, but he hadn’t really spoken to them outside of meetings.

Benny LaFitte, and his wife, Cas knew only by sight. Benny was the proprietor of Sioux Falls’ only cajun-style restaurant, simply named _The Gumbo Shack_. He was a gruff-looking man who looked like he’d buried a body or two in the forest, so Cas tended to shy away from him.

Sam, of course, he knew, but this was his first time meeting his wife, Jess, who he found very charming. Their son was asleep in one of the bedrooms.

It was also his first time to officially meet the redhead who’d fixed his laptop, and the gruff man who told him his Honda was a lost cause and advised him to trade it in for something more sensible, else he’d find his “idjit self” stranded on the side of the road during a storm.

Something told him that Charlie Bradbury and Bobby Singer were _very_ important to Dean, and vice versa. That Something was the interrogation he was subjected to during the lovely pot roast dinner made by Dean himself, who was at the other end of the table trying to hide.

Sam, the attorney, had plenty of questions about Cas' education, his family, and the like. Cas responded somewhat vaguely to the questions regarding his education. Business degree, decent school, blah blah.

Sam's questions were the easy ones. They were asked with friendly curiosity, which should have let him know he’d fallen for a trap just by getting into Ellen’s truck.  

The questions coming from Charlie were confusing ("Star Trek or Star Wars?" "Kirk or Spock?" "Lord of the Rings, book or movies?") And when he said he'd not seen Star Wars, she gasped dramatically and turned to Dean. "Your neighbor needs some education, and that awesome entertainment center of yours is just screaming for a marathon."

Cas watched as Dean shrugged noncommittally, his mouth full of buttery potatoes.

It hit him suddenly that there must have been _something_ he'd done to make Dean feel uncomfortable, some reason he'd given the man to avoid him.

He hadn't meant to make the man uncomfortable in his own home, at least not in front of his family, but since he obviously had, Cas felt this should probably be the last time he overstepped his boundaries, both literally and figuratively.

He thought he would finish the ridiculously delicious dinner that was made by a ridiculously beautiful man and politely skip out on dessert, leaving said man in peace, but Bobby Singer had other plans.

While Gilda and Garth helped Ellen bring out dessert (a peach cobbler she insisted he stay for), Bobby looked at him calmly, knowingly, and asked him one question:

“So, _Cas,_ what made you want to be a farmer?” His tone, casual as it was, hit everyone’s ears and made them all pay attention.

Just the way the man said his name sent chills through him. He didn’t seem like the sort of person who made small talk, nor did he seem the type of person to ask a question he didn’t already know the answer to.

Cas took a sip of water before answering. “I enjoy nature, and all of God’s creatures. It’s quiet and beautiful, and fills up my cup in a way nothing else does.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “Fills up your cup? What does that mean?”

“I understand what he’s saying.” Gilda leaned forward to speak. “Cas, here, is an Introvert, and he finds peace and solitude in things that others might find dull. And the things that others find fun or grounding are things that empty his cup. Am I right?” She looked over at Cas, smiling sweetly, her earnest doe eyes on full blast.

He nodded. “Exactly. Just because I’m alone, that doesn’t mean I’m _lonely._ I sometimes feel more lonely in a crowded room.”

“How are you feeling right now?” Charlie asked, a spoonful of cobbler with melting whipped cream heading to her mouth.

“Charlie,” Gilda hushed her. “You don’t just _ask_ that.”

“It’s all right,” he assured Gilda as she sat a bowl of cobbler in front of him. “I’m not entirely sure how I’m feeling right now. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Most of the occupants let out a chuckle, then dug into their dessert. It was quiet for a few moments while everyone got settled again.

“Mmm, Ellen, this is cobbler is excellent. I don’t think I’ve ever had cobbler this good,” Cas praised her after swallowing a bite.

Ellen looked proud. “Well, honey, you’re partly to thank for how good it is,” she replied. “The peaches came from your orchard, and I used some of the honey you brought Dean tonight to drizzle on top. By the way, did you say ‘thank you’ for the honey, Dean?”

Eyes wide at being addressed, Dean swallowed and looked at Ellen. “Uh, no.” He swung his gaze to Cas. “Thanks for the honey, man. And the peaches, too.”

Unwilling to let that gaze go, he looked right back. “You’re very welcome. I hope you enjoy.”

Dean nodded and went back to his bowl.

“So, you have an orchard? And bees?” Charlie asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Cas chewed and swallowed a bite. “Only if you piss them off.” He smiled quickly at Charlie. “I’ve always been fascinated by bees. If you respect them, they will respect you.”

“So. Bees and peaches, huh?” Bobby had been too quiet, regarding him with that look of his that saw right through him. “What didja do before bees and trees? You said you got a business degree. I assume you did something with it.”

Cas put his spoon down. His palms were itchy and starting to sweat. “I was the assistant of a Chief Financial Officer of a company before I settled here.” His stomach started to rebel at the the line of questioning. He hoped he could make it through this part of the interrogation without doing something embarrassing, like vomiting up the wonderful dinner into his lap.

“What? Not enough nature for ya?”

Cas tried taking in a deep breath through his nose without being obvious about it. “Basically.” His stomach felt like it was trying to make its way up his esophagus, so he kept his answer short.

“Wait.” Charlie spoke up suddenly, her sharp green gaze turning back to Cas. “Did you say you were a CFO's assistant?”

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. FUCK._

“Would you please excuse me?” he said faintly, getting out of his chair and fleeing the dining room.


End file.
